"Are you ready to go home?" I whisper.
She nods, and I look over at the doctor.
"I'll have the nurse bring your discharge papers in just a minute," she says, walking out of the room.
"Thanks, Dr. Connor.”
Emma coos as I settle my head on her belly, trying to be as close as possible to the little dancing figure inside.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emma
Two days later…
"Should I be seeing fingers? I can't see fingers."
Judy turns the ultrasound picture over a few times and narrows her eyes to peer at it more closely.
"The baby has fingers," I assure her. "It's just not easy to see in that picture. Its hands are kind of scrunched up."
She shakes her head.
"Having a temper tantrum already. That is not good news."
I laugh and take the picture from her, looking down at it.
"The baby’s not having a temper tantrum," I laugh.
She shakes her head at me.
"I still can't believe you've been pregnant since January and you didn't tell me until now.”
I wince.
"I'm really sorry about that," I say. "To be fair, I didn't actually know since January. I've only known for a few weeks. I didn't have much morning sickness at all in the beginning. But now, out of nowhere, I'll smell or taste something, and the nausea rises in seconds. It's like the Universe is getting back at me for not being miserable enough early on.”
"That doesn't sound pleasant at all. I'll have to remember that."
My eyes slide away from the picture and over to Judy.
"Oh, really? Are you and Jeremy thinking of having a baby?" I tease.
"And endure the wrath of Gram? You must have lost your ever-loving mind. No, we are not talking about spawning an out-of-wedlock baby. No offense."
"What offense? I'm married, remember?"
She looks at me with an expression that says the whole situation is just as confusing to her as it is to me. Does it still count if you don't realize you're married when the baby is conceived? Or if you didn't intend on getting legally married in the first place?
"About that…" she says.
She doesn't continue, but she doesn't have to. I know what she's thinking.
"I don't know what this means," I say, gesturing at my belly. "We haven't really talked about it. When I first told him about the baby, it was right before he had to go back to work with his client. I knew he had planned to be gone for a few more weeks, and I didn't want him to suddenly change his plans because of this. Not when I haven’t even made a decision myself."
I pause, reaching for my herbal tea and taking a sip. The swirl of peppermint and honey on my tongue is soothing and invigorating at the same time.
I let out a long breath.
"When I first saw Grant again, I wasn't happy about it. That's a major understatement, actually. It felt like he was sent there to taunt me.”
"Let me get this straight. You were stranded by the side of the road in a jacked-up hooptie –"
"Jacked-up hooptie?"
"There was a throwback marathon on late-night TV last Thursday. May I continue?"
"Go right ahead."
"And a gorgeous man rolls up, rescues you from the literal storm, and you felt like he was taunting you?”
"I felt taunted by the circumstances," I clarify. "It wasn't easy for me to come back here. I always thought I was going to get out of Magnolia Falls for good, and make a new life somewhere else."
"I still don't understand why you would be so miserable with the thought of coming back here. Is it because you didn't want to run into Grant?"
"No," I say. "That wasn't it. I wanted to leave Magnolia Falls before I had a crush on Grant. I wanted to leave because I thought there was more. I watched my parents struggle because of their decision to live on the island, and even though they were happy, it always struck me that maybe life would have been easier somewhere else. So, I decided when I was young that I would find that out for myself."
"Did you ever pause to think they already had what they wanted?"
"What do you mean?"
"They might have struggled and not lived a luxurious life, but that doesn't mean there was anything wrong with it. They were both intelligent people who obviously had enough drive to work and build a life for their family here. If they had really wanted to leave and find something else, they could have. But they didn't. Probably because they already had what they wanted. Living on the island wasn't shameful for them. It wasn't a failure. It was home."
I stare into my mug, contemplating the tea leaves and Judy's words.
"When I saw him again, it all just hit me," I finally say.
"What did?"
"How much my life was different than I thought it was going to be. Seeing Grant was like a reminder of what I thought I'd overcome. That summer before I left for college was eye-opening to say the least, and I felt like it was an accomplishment to move beyond it. Then when everything else fell apart, there he was, reminding me of it."
"He wasn't reminding you of it. He was there to help you," Judy says.
I nod.
"I see things differently now, Dame. I've finally started to feel like I'm good enough. Grant’s role in my life has changed. I’ve accepted that coming back to Magnolia Falls was an accomplishment in itself.”
"Yes, it was," Judy agrees. "Nothing is scarier in life than having to humble yourself and admit that you were wrong. And you were wrong about not having any opportunities here, and about never coming back. To be able to acknowledge you couldn't do it on your own and that you needed to start over…" she gives me a slow nod, "that takes guts."
"Thank you," I say.
"So, what does all this mean?" she asks.
"I don't know," I admit.
"Does Grant know how you feel?"
"I don't know," I say. "We haven't really talked about it. I don't think either of us know how to at this point. I'm the one who said we needed to keep space between us and figure out where life was going to bring us without complicating things even more."
"Why would you do that?"
"Our lives are so different, Judy," I say. “Magnolia Falls isn't his home. It might be his hometown, but he lives somewhere else. He has a house and an office and a life. For all I know, he has a stable of women he whisks out for nights on the town when he's not here."
She looks at me incredulously.
"Do you really think Grant has a stable of women?" she asks.
I let out a long sigh.
"No," I admit.
"You know he doesn’t. He looks at you like he's never seen a woman as perfect.”
“But he’s never brought me to a gala event.”
“Yes, he has. Homecoming Week.”
I smile. He did show up at the Halloween party when I didn't expect him to. I told myself it didn't really have anything to do with me then, and tried to bury myself in denial.
"What about our careers? He travels all the time for his clients. He's almost never around. The fact that he has been able to take all this time off for Mr. Bernheimer’s event is a complete aberration. I might have been able to deal with that to a degree if it was just me. But what about the baby?"
"Speaking of Mr. Bernheimer and his retirement celebration, did you ever figure out what Mrs. Burke was talking about a few weeks ago when she came into the lunchroom?"
I had almost forgotten about that conversation. I shake my head.
"No," I say. "I never asked him about it."
"Maybe you should," she says.
* * *
I intend to talk to Grant about Mrs. Burke and the baby, but over the next couple of weeks, it feels like he’s barely around. We occasionally pass each other in the hallways at school, but I never know why he's there, and more nights than not he doesn’t get home until I've fallen asleep on the couch, ice cream bowl in hand. In the mornings, he gulps down his coffee and a bowl of cereal
or a plate of toast, kisses my belly, and is gone before I've even gotten a chance to kick off my fuzzy slippers. I feel like he's slipping further and further away from me, and I realize that this is exactly what I asked him to do. I told him to really think about his life, and how a baby and I would fit into it, so he could make the decision that he'd be able to live with.
The only problem, I've realized I can’t imagine my life without Grant in it. I can't deny that I'm in love with him, but I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to bring myself to say it. I told him before I wasn't in this to manipulate him or try to control him. Opening myself up to him like that would only go against that promise. Soon the surprise will be revealed, the prom will be over, and it will be time for us to move on – one way or another.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emma
Prom week…
"Is everything ready for this weekend?" I ask cautiously.
I feel strange starting such a forced conversation. I shouldn't feel this way. The entire point of creating space in our relationship was to stay friendly with each other and not become distracted by anything else. The fact that he took my idea to such an extreme, however, makes me feel sad and isolated.
"Finalizing the last few details today, actually," Grant replies.
He sounds pleasant enough. Nothing in his voice indicates that he is anything but fully at peace with our relationship. I’m afraid to ask what he sees in our future. I don't want to hear it. Not yet. I know it's coming, but I’m not going to force the conversation.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask.
"Not really," he replies, shaking his head. "I've got it under control."
"I feel like I haven't had much to do these last few weeks," I say. "You've pretty much taken over."
"I figured since we got the bulk of the main planning done already, you'd be happy for the break."
"But I liked working on it," I admit, feeling miffed. "I didn’t want to stop contributing."
"You did so much already," he says. "You did a fantastic job, especially with the invitations. They were amazing. I don't know if I ever said that."
For some reason, it feels like he's tossing me a bone.
"Invitations that still have several outstanding RSVPs," I point out. "Have you been able to track anyone down?"
"Some," Grant says. "I don't want you to worry about any of this. I've got it under control. You just relax for now."
"The school year is still going on, Grant. I still have to teach. Getting up in front of a bunch of high school students pregnant is not my definition of relaxing. Especially with prom coming up. They've been talking nonstop about it. Especially the boutique Mr. Alexander set up. Did you hear about that?"
"A boutique?" Grant asks.
"It has dresses and tuxes for the kids to choose from, and a few of them mentioned getting their hair and nails done before the dance in a couple weeks."
"That should be fun for them."
"It's just surprising. I asked around, and there wasn't anything like that last year. There definitely wasn't when we were in school."
He gives an almost imperceptible nod, and I wonder if he’s remembering the story I told him about my family not being able to afford prom.
"Well, at least try to get a little rest this evening. You've seemed really tired recently."
"How would you even be able to tell?" I mutter to myself.
"Hmm?"
"Nothing."
Grant finishes tucking his lunch and a variety of pieces of fruit into the bag he's taken to carrying since transporting the plans and notes became cumbersome.
"I just want to make sure you have enough energy to enjoy yourself tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I ask, confused.
He looks at me incredulously.
"Yes, tomorrow. The Big Event."
That was the oh-so creative code name we chose for the event where Grant and Mrs. Burke will reveal the celebration surprise to Mr. Bernheimer.
"I wasn't planning on going to that, actually," I say.
"Not going?" Grant asks, sounding shocked. "Why not?"
"I didn't have anything to do with the planning," I say, "and it's not the party itself."
"You were part of planning the event as a whole," Grant says. "You are a part of this. Besides, he was your principal, too. Don't you think you should be there to honor his retirement? And don't you want to see his face when he finds out about the prom?"
I sigh and nod.
"I guess you’re right," I say. "I do want to see his reaction."
"Good. Then get some rest so you can have fun. I'll be out late again tonight."
"Yep." I glance at the clock as he starts out of the kitchen and toward the front door. I still have half an hour until I need to get ready for work. "You never even told me where it's being held. Judy says the top-secret invitation she got said to meet at the front of the school."
"Not much of a top secret, I guess, is it?" he asks.
I shrug.
"She assumed I knew."
"And now you do."
As he leaves the house and closes the door behind him, I feel like I've become part of this surprise, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.
* * *
The next evening…
"Where's Grant?" Judy asks.
"I don't know," I say as we hurry toward the front of the school. We're a few minutes late, and a cluster of people have already formed at the flagpole. "I didn't get a chance to talk to him today."
I can feel her looking at me, and I try to ignore her.
"Just today?" she asks.
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. You still haven't talked to him?"
I let out a heavy sigh.
"I haven't gotten to, no," I say.
"Why not?"
"He's been so distracted over the last couple of weeks, it feels like I’ve barely seen him at all. He's rarely at the house, and even when he is, he's holed up in his office. If I try to talk to him, he barely registers that I exist. I don't know about you, but I don't think having a conversation about an impending divorce and the future of my child's life is something I want to do with a person who is only invested in half of what’s coming out of my mouth."
She's still for a second, and I turn to look at her. There's sadness in her round, dark eyes.
"So, you're sure you want to go ahead with the divorce when the waiting period is up?" she asks softly.
"I don't know," I say, feeling deflated. "I don't think I'm ever really going to know. Right now, it seems like I don't have any other choice."
We get to the others waiting in front of the school, and Judy wraps her arm around my shoulders, rubbing my back through my thin cardigan as I put on the happiest smile I can and let myself drift into casual conversation with my colleagues.
We're all whispering about how excited we are for Mr. Bernheimer to find out about his surprise when he walks out of the school toward us. Hushing quickly, we turn to him and call out our greetings. A curious, suspicious look crosses his face, and it's obvious he knows something is up with the excuse we used – evening prom committee – to keep him after school this long.
"Where the heck is Grant?" Judy mutters to me. "I don't think we're going to be able to hold out much longer."
"I don't know," I say. "He didn't even tell me what we're doing. I thought we'd have some sort of presentation here at the school, but apparently, he has something else planned."
A few minutes later, I hear the sound of hooves, and look up to see a large wagon heading toward us. This is nothing like the rickety trailer we've seen Jeremy driving before. Instead, it looks like a covered wagon and has benches along either side, illuminated by strands of lights tucked inside the canopy. Grant stands inside the wagon, a smile spreading across his lips when he sees us. Our eyes meet, and I feel the familiar flutter in my heart and my belly. I wonder if that reaction will ever go away. I'm so drawn to him I almost don'
t notice Mr. Kleinfelder sitting on one of the benches. He seems uncomfortable, obviously unsure of what's going on. Grant comes down the steps on the wagon and walks up to me, offering his hand. I'm unsure, and stare back at him blankly for a few seconds. Things have been so strained between us recently, I don't know if this is real, or if he’s just playing up our relationship for the people watching. I look into Grant's eyes, and rest my fingers into in his, allowing him to guide me up into the wagon.
When I'm settled on one of the benches, he turns to face the group again.
"Mr. Bernheimer, Mrs. Burke, will you please come aboard?"
Neil stands as they climb up the stairs, and I see Mr. Bernheimer's face light up.
"Neil," he says happily, extending his hand. "It's so good to see you, old friend. I never thought I'd see you here again."
"It's good to see you, too, Tony," Neil says.
He looks at Mrs. Burke, who seems even more surprised to see him. I imagine she hasn't kept up with Neil the way Mr. Bernheimer has. I wonder what she thought of Eleanor and the whole situation when it was unfolding.
The three of them take their seats on the bench, and Grant turns to invite the rest of the group to come aboard. I watch as Judy tries to be as dignified as possible but still ends up pushing her way to the front so she can sit beside me.
“Where are we going?” she whispers to me.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back.
“Are you holding out on me?” she asks.
I look at her incredulously.
“Why would you ask that?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe because you are really, really bad at telling me anything. Marriage. Sex. Baby. Maybe it’s another one of those situations."
"It's not," I tell her. "I'm sorry about all the rest of the stuff. Again."
Once everyone is settled in the wagon, Grant climbs up and takes his place near the driver. He grips one of the supports and signals the driver to go, then turns to his captive audience.
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